Then to Barbadoes we were bound, our course so well did steer;
We cruisèd there for several days, and nothing did appear.
'Twas on the 11th of March, to windward of Surinam,
We spied a lofty ship, my boys, at anchor near the land;
All hands we call'd to quarters, and down upon her bore,
Thinking 'twas some merchant-ship then lying near the shore.
She quickly weighèd anchor and from us did steer,
And setting her top-gallant sail as if she did us fear,
But soon we were alongside of her, and gave her a gun,
Determinèd to fight, my boys, and not from her to run.
We hoisted up the bloody flag and down upon her bore,
If she did not strike, my boys, no quarters we would show her;
Each man a brace of pistols, a boarding-pike and sword,
We'll give her a broadside, my boys, before we do her board.
All hands at their quarters lay, until we came alongside,
And gave them three hearty cheers, their British courage tried.
The lower ports she had shut in, the Armstrong to decoy,
And quickly she her ports did show, to daunt each Yankee boy.
The first broadside we gave them true, their colors shot away,
Their topsail, haulyards, mizen rigging, main and mizen stay,
Two ports we did knock into one, his starboard quarter tore,
They overboard their wounded flung, while cannons loud did roar.
She wore directly round, my boys, and piped all hands on deck,
For fear that we would board and serve a Yankee trick;
To board a six-and-thirty it was in vain to try,
While the grape, round, and langrage, like hailstones they did fly.
Brave Champlin on the quarter-deck so nobly gave command:
"Fight on, my brave Americans, dismast her if you can."
The round, grape, and star-shot so well did play,
A musket-ball from the maintop brave Champlin low did lay.
His wound was quickly dress'd, while he in his cabin lay;
The doctor, while attending, these words he heard him say:
"Our Yankee flag shall flourish," our noble captain cried,
"Before that we do strike, my boys, we'll sink alongside."
She was a six-and-thirty, and mounted forty-two,
We fought her four glasses, what more then could we do;
Till six brave seamen we had kill'd, which grievèd us full sore,
And thirteen more wounded lay bleeding in their gore.
Our foremast being wounded, and bowsprit likewise;
Our lower rigging fore and aft, and headstay beside;
Our haulyards, braces, bowling, and foretop sheet also,
We found we could not fight her, boys, so from her we did go.